


The innocence of ignorance

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Denial, Guilt, M/M, Slash, TDKR, Torture, Violence, crazy Batman, snapped!Batman, tdk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Batman finally breaks, he locks the Joker with him in an attempt to break the clown. To make him feel the pain he feels when his world burns. Bruce Wayne wakes up every morning with little to no memories of the night before. </p><p>Harleen Quinzel, a top psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, attempts to track down the Joker with Girlfriend Pamela Isley, who is becoming more and more suspicious of Bruce Wayne.<br/>Somewhere, sometime, a line will be crossed and there will be no return to the innocence of ignorance.</p><p>-I am redoing some of the parts so it'll be the same but with more details and scenes<br/>. Cheers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Warning: This fic involves a disturbed Batman who tortures the Joker, then filters out the memories of said torture, and tries to justify said torture, so yeah.

Ch1

Dragging the Joker's thin body back to the cave is no mean feat. To him, he is feather light. The light from the half hidden moon, shying away from the scene in the city but still peeking her eyes over the clouds shines onto his bare face, making the clown look oddly innocent. But in the end his heart is dark and Batman knows it more than anyone at how much the Joker's facade has fooled quite a few doctors at Arkham.

Batman’s mouth twitched to form a smirk. He has the Joker where he wanted him. With him. In the cave. His cave. His clown. Now Gotham is safe, and it’s prized madman locked up deep underground.

A gloved hand brushes across a scarred cheek. _Mine_. The Joker shifted his head, and Batman’s eye twitched at how careless the clown is in his drugged sleep. When he watched the Joker sleep cautiously, even when pumped full of drugs in the Asylum, it almost impressed him. Almost.

The Joker is like a flame. He burns Gotham and he burns everything Batman has ever stood for, everything he has ever loved. He reduces them to ashes an rise from said ashes. He strokes the cheek again. After all, his one rule is objective concerning the Joker. As long as Bruce does not kill the clown, and he has no intention of doing so.

The clown is currently unconscious and strapped to a mattress bolted to the floor of a padded room. A room Bruce has built in secret, away from the prying and concerned eyes of Alfred. Alfred is the last thing that Batman cares for, anymore.

Batman pulls himself out of his train of thought and picks up a newly made shock collar that he picked up from certain criminal elements of Gotham (That he beats up and leaves for the police.)The collar is used to control dogs for dogfights in the stinking underbelly of Gotham, but considering that the Joker called himself a 'mad dog,' it fits.

Batman frowns when he snaps the collar on the madman’s neck. He never approved of such methods, but he does need something to control the jester with if he ever gets away. Not like that is very likely, but the Joker is always resourceful. Besides, the Joker is different. Too different from anyone else that Batman is delt with. Special to him in his own way, if he must say.

Batman leaves the room, locking the door from the outside. The Joker is too drugged when he dragged him here. He parts with the suit and retreats back to the manor. The hint of surprise that flashed in the green eyes when he stuck the chloroform rag over his nose and tilted his head back felt victorious, but a small voice nagged in his mind that he should just call Gordon and give the clown to the police and give up the poisonous reality he prepared for the Joker, burn the cell to the ground, and never think of it ever again. His rage at the clown took over.

* * *

 

Bruce feels disorientated as he walks towards his bedroom. Clutching his head, the billionaire realises that sometime after he finishes his patrol and before he is back in the cave, his memories becomes fuzzy and out of reach. No matter, as long as justice is served and the city is safe. Something whispered to him, almost as a suggestion.

 

The Joker opens his eyes, surveying his surroundings. Padded cell, Body, strapped. Hand, arms, legs, even his fucking fingers, all strapped, and there appears to be something around his neck. He grinds his teeth and licks his lips. Someone has removed his coat and forced mouth wash and toothpaste down his throat. Hmm. Could be a neat freak. His mind is fuzzy about what happened before waking up here. Not fair, really. He just saw the Batman's cape flicker across a corner and then the chemical smell of chloroform fills his nose and mouth and he slips off into _lala land_.

That someone has also managed to snap a collar around his neck. The Joker growls and tries to struggle out of his bindings, but with no results, he settles. This person, has the audacity to collar and bind him like some animal. Humph. The weirdo is gonna die, that is for sure, ehe _he_.

He shifts around restlessly. Boredom taking over his mind, Joker tries to, again, escape his restraints with no results. It was early in the morning before he falls asleep, the drug in his body still not fully gone.

 

* * *

 

When Bruce wakes up that morning, he has an inkling that some thing is horribly, horribly wrong. He eats, but the food tastes like dead ash in his mouth. Over the years, Bruce has developed a sixth sense of when something bad is happening. This one feels like 'dead fish in your stomach' type of moral dilema. For what?

“Are you sure you are all right, master Bruce?” Alfred frowns at his charge. He has been seeming a little out of it these days, especially when he finishes patrol as the Batman.

“Mhm. I’m fine.” Bruce stares out of the window. He spent the rest of the day at work, with a small, nagging voice at the back of his mind suggesting that something is wrong. Usually, he'd listen to the voice but he cannot figure out for the hell of it what is wrong.

“Go away.” He says to the air, slumping over his chair, talking to the invisible voice. Maybe I am going crazy, he thought.

  
“Excuse me?!” An annoyed voice spoke up. Bruce lifts his head from the table to see the red-headed head of conservation, Pamela Isley, glaring at him. He mumbles an apology and she huffs, but turns away, right before Bruce slams his head back down on the table again.

When Bruce can finally call it a day and head home, the nagging voice at the back of his mind still loud and clear and as annoying as ever. He knows that something is off, that he has forgotten something important.

He shakes off that feeling and heads home.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch2

That night, Bruce goes out to patrol again, the thrill of the night and the chase leading him to forget, temporarily, his problems. The Joker has been gone from Arkham for about a week, and the city is as tense as ever, waiting for the next big hit. But there will be no next big hit, Batman promises himself. He will save his beloved city from this madman. He will break this criminal mastermind. He will get what he wants and his city will be safe and he will have the clown.

The Joker. Thinking about the Joker, Batman returns to the cave, and opens the locked door. He has locked the clown here, in a padded cell. The madman has brought him so much pain and fury and rage. He smirks at the clown and shoves a bright flash light near his eyes, it looks more like a snarl.

“Bats?” The Joker sounds confused. “How nice to see you here, bats! Did ya kidnap me? Had no idea that you are so, uh, kinky~” The clown babbles on, gesturing to the bonds the bat had him in. Batman backhanded him.

“Shut. Up.” The bat growls at the clown.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, jeez, bats, calm down, eh?” The Joker grins, despite the thumping pain on his cheek. Damn, bats went full on there. Batman closes a fist in the Joker’s hair and looks the madman in his eyes, dragging his face so close that their noses are touching, and the grassy green of the clown's eyes that screamed poor little hurt boy almost had him release him. The thought of revenge is much better.

“Hi there~” The Joker sound as smug as he could be, tied up in what could be his basement. so Batman shuts him up.

It couldn’t be counted as a kiss, no. More of a bite, really. Full of violence and blood and a strangled laugh from the clown. Batman flicks the lights on. In the harsh white light of the room the Joker looked young, not a day over twenty six and Bruce felt like he was one of those strange men in large vans luring young boys and girls and tying them up. The Joker is far from innocent, so he shakes that thought away.

“No idea you are so, uh, into me, bats. But all you have to do is just ask.” Batman backhanded him again and the clown just laughs. Laughs in the face of pain because if you can't laugh, you might as well cry.

“Hey bats! Yo ho! I, ah, gotta go, if you know what I mean.” He giggles again. Batman releases the clown from his restraints, and the Joker launches himself at the bat, punching and kicking at the kevlar clad man. A press of a button later, a firey pain sears through the Joker and he falls to the ground.

“W-what the hell! Bats!” A small tinge of pain is shown and the quickly hidden, but Batman senses it and knows his victory. He has managed to take the Joker by surprise and it felt good. _Addictive_ , even.  Batman raises his foot and places his boot on the Joker’s face. “Go. Now. Or this will not be the last time.”

“Heh. Threatening.” But when the Joker picks himself up from the floor and drags his feet to the bathroom Bruce has to resist the urge to press the button again. When the clown finishes he grabs him by his arms and pushes him up against the wall and ties the Joker up so that he gets rope burns.

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Batman roars at the clown.

“Why should I? Bats! You cant be so mean!” The Joker teases Batman. Like he is in charge, that he has full control over his situation. It makes rage bubble up inside Bruce’s mind.

He walks away, drawing a bath of cold water. He had the bathroom installed for such reasons. Tile is easier to clean than a padded room. He drags the Joker to the edge.  
“!” Batman holds the Joker’s head down into the water, and drags him out by his hair, once, twice, three times. The Joker comes up, wheezing and gasping for air and laughing. “Really Batman? How dishonorable of you!”

Batman holds the Joker’s head down in the water, again and again, until he chokes and then he lets the maniac’s head hit the bottom, forming a bruise.

‘Eh-he h-he, bats, y-you really aren’t kiddin’ heh” Batman punches the man in his jaw. “You.” He huffs. “Mine. Will..break. Will make you pay.” The Joker stares at him. “You truly are delusional, bats.” And then he splutters and laughs and Batman heaves the Joker out of the bathroom in outrage. Closing a gloved hand around his neck, he licks the shell of his ear and feels the madman freeze again. "Didn't you say that people show their ture colours when they are about to die? I want to see what your true colours are." The Joker glares at Batman, angry and disbelieving. He is not happy, not happy at all. Seems like bats has snapped before the game has even reached the climax. 

Of course, Batman is not going to kill the Joker, not really. His one rule prevents that. But he can make it as close as possible. 

He starts slamming the Joker’s head against the wall as the clown laughs. Batman snarls. He will break the clown yet. When he stops, the Joker is rendered unconscious, and Bruce locks his mouth with a muzzle. Warm red blood slides down his face.

He slams the door to the cell and gets back up to the cave.

“Master Bruce?” He hears a voice from the elevator. Batman looks up. “Yes Alfred?” He asks.

“I am merely worried, Bruce. You have been down in the cave for quite some time.” Alfred frowns. Normally Bruce would be up as soon as he is changed. Perhaps he has some other business, then.

Bruce frowns. His mind telling him that he has just arrived at the cave. “Mhmn. Thanks, Al, I’ll be up there soon.” Alfred nods and leaves for the mansion, leaving the man to his thoughts as his worse adversary is locked up beneath his feet.

 

* * *

 

When Bruce goes back to the manor and showers and rest, his mind tells him that he is forgetting something important. He ignores that voice, but inside, Bruce feels dirty. A kind of dirt and filth that cannot be washed away. ‘Stop.’ He tells himself. ‘You have no reason for feeling like that.’ Oh but you do. He ignores that voice. He should get some therapy, Bruce considers, but the weight of the secret has to be beared by him alone. At least Alfred and Fox offer their consolidations.

Having some people on his side helps. Gordon too, but Gordon dosen't know the secret. He knows that telling the commissioner would only harm him. And Rachel, Rachel knew and now she is dead and his support is almost half gone and damn, does his chest huirt.

* * *

 

“Why are you so obsessed about that guy?” Pamela whispers as she leans down to kiss Harleen’s hair. Truth be told, she is jealous that her girlfriend is so interested in the Joker. As a psycologist, of course. Every one of them wants to write a book about him, lining up for interviews but scared away by the reputation the clown holds. 

“Huh? Obsessed?” She replies. “Not obsessed. The Joker is interesting.” Pam grins and kisses her again. God she loves this woman. One day she'll have to tell her her past, the one with plants and guns and rifles, but that can wait another day.

“Interesting, and MIA, Harls.” She has to admit she is a little jealous of the homicidal clown. “I know. God! Pam. I have to track that guy down. There are just so many questions!” She kisses her girlfriend. “Not that way though. You know I love you.” Pam smirks. “There are other things we should be doing right now.” She flips Harley onto her stomach and Harley giggles and it warms her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bats is really crazy and delusional in this, isn't he? What other kinds of torture and stuff are there? Any ideas?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The room the Joker is kept in is beneath the bat-cave.

Ch3

 

Bruce is out on Patrol again, and so far, nothing is in his sight. Stopped a few robberies, watched the news, Pamela Isley is still giving him the stink eye, and the Joker...the Joker is still on the run, the disappearing act continuing. Something in his mind clicked. The pent up anger flowed out of his body like water does when the dam breaks, filling him with a glorious, liberating breath of free air.

No, the Joker is with him now. Gotham is safe. Stopping a few more crimes along the way in the quiet night, he makes his way back to the cave. The Joker jumps at him, mouth still covered by the muzzle, but the ropes are untied. Batman presses the button again and the clown falls, a small scream barely contained by the muzzle. It did it's job. He looks forward to seeing the clown bend and bend and finally break. Maybe he can fuck some sense into him. Batman straps him to the mattress again, when the clown is too irresponsive to struggle, the two days without food taking a toll on his body.

He could have gone longer, but the psychological turmoil taken on him by the strange things that is happening is chipping away at Joker's mind. To him, Batman is forever and unchangable, the unmovable object. 

Batman takes the iron he has prepared. It runs on electricity and is red hot. He burns a trail on the Joker's right arm, a brand in its own rights.

The Joker tries to make something out despite the muzzle, something that sounds like a giggle or a sneer, and rage grips Batman’s mind again. He pulls punches onto the madman’s frame, bruising and breaking his ribs. The clown kicks and jerks underneath him, invoking Batman to carve his body with a batarang.

“You. You burned and killed everything I cared about.” Slash. “You are a murderous, thieving,” Slash, slash. Batman's eyes burn with red-hot anger. If anyone else saw him now they would say he looks like one of the drgged up maniacs he fights. And he high, high on the pain he is causing, the sweet taste of revenge and the raw, primal urge for power.

The blood drips and soaks into the mattress. “Fiend.” He lights a cigarette and puts it out on the exposed parts of his neck. The another and another until the entire pack is used up. The he uses a second pack to mark his body.

Batman presses the button, again and again, sending waves of shock across the Joker’s body until he passes out, then dumps water over his head until he wakes and does it again.

“You deserve everything I will do to you.” Batman grabs hod of a wrist and twists it until he hears a crack.

He creates a large cut across his stomach, then fingers the wound until the clownish man shakes, in laughter or screams. He gives the wound a twin.

Blinded by his righteous rage, Batman leans down and rips off the Joker’s pants. Sensing what is about to happen, he rages against his captor with a wild ferocity, to no end.

“Don’t. Move.” Batman unclasps his suit and frees himself. He shoves a finger in, once, twice, three times as the Joker remains frozen, either giving up on his stance or stalled by the disbelief that this is happening to him, that Batman is willing to sink this low to make a point.

He pulls his fingers out and slides himself in. Bruce thrusts ruthlessly, ignoring the clown’s limp and unresponsive state, gripping at his captive’s sides, forming large, purple bruises. Who knows how long has passed when Batman releases with a grunt, picking up his suit and leaving the Joker, lying bloody and bruised on the floor of his fortified prison. He presses the button to the collar again, just for good measure.

As a gesture of sudden cruelty, Batman takes a nearby metal pole meant for other purposes, and plunges it where he was.

As Batman leaves the Joker to himself, the rage filled part of his mind subsides, and his mind reels at the line he just crossed, the barriers that he has broken.

When Bruce gets to the cave, he feels dazed and uncomfortable, his every sense telling him that something has happened, a line has been crossed. His body feels sated, as if...

He gapes in shock as he feels stickiness in his underwear. Bruce has no memories of doing anything of that kind. Bruce frowns. He does remember something. A wild rage, fueled by anger and pain and loss, coupled with desire. He does not recognize what drove himself to feel that kind of fury, and it unsettles him to think that something so disturbing has happened to him for his mind to block it out, with no chance of him remembering.

An exchange of warm words with Alfred, a cold shower and a warm bed later, Bruce pushes such thoughts out of his mind. He still fights crime with a clear mind, and that is what he cares about.

“Have any ideas about the Joker, sir?” Alfred asks. The clowns escape settles heavily in the minds of Gotham’s people.

“No. I think he is still in hiding.” Mentions of the Joker brings a tendril of guilt into his stomach and a sheen of filth, not to be washed away, settle on his skin. Bruce ignores his mind. You are tired. He tells himself. All he needs is rest.

 

The Joker finally catches his breath a long time after Batman has left. His mind is still in shock at what has transpired. He expects, even reveals in the beatings, yet what happened after...

He pulls at the straps again, managing to get out. Pulling at his pants(and getting the metal pole out right fucking now), the Joker pushes open the unlocked door and runs out, ignoring his curiosity at Batman’s cave.

Running back blinding to the narrows, hips and legs sore but fueled by adrenaline, not paying any attention to his surroundings, the Joker counted on his luck to find one of his old apartments. He picks at the muzzle, unlocking it and rips the collar into pieces with tweezers and a hammer.

Collapsing into his bed, the Joker knows he would have to face Batman again. To think that he used to consider Batman an equal, a friend in this game they play. But now this feeling is tainted and dirty, and the Joker is angry. Very angry. Such thoughts accompanies him until he falls into troubled sleep.

 

When Batman sees the Joker again, he falls into shock. The man looks rugged, tired, walks with a limp, and seems so frightened and angry and shocked.

Then the madman screams at him and runs, but slowly and limping, so Batman takes him and drags him, with all intentions of bringing the man to Arkham, when he notices scars around his mouth and burn marks around his neck.

“Who did this to you?” Batman whispers, knowing that he will have to take care of the clown until he finds out what happened. Administering chloroform to knock the man out, Batman brings the clown back.

Alfred protested at the Joker staying, but a look at the clown’s injuries has him reeling. Bruce almost retches when he realises what has been done. Bruises, a few broken ribs, cigarette burns, cuts, shock marks. Two large cuts across his stomach requires multiple stitches, and Bruce thinks that they look hauntingly familiar.

What disturbs him the most is the fact that the man has been raped. Alfred’s face twitches from it’s impassive state into a look of horror at the damage done, and Bruce very nearly throws up his breakfast, lunch and dinner, right there and then.

When they finish bandaging up the Joker and sedating him and strapping him to a makeshift hospital bed, Bruce and Alfred drags themselves up to the manor, and Alfred pours them both drinks, ignoring Bruce’s protests.

“What kind of sick fuck would do that?!” Bruce asks, and Alfred does not protest his language, but nodded his agreement instead. “I know plenty who would.” Alfred looks older and more tired. “When I was younger, I have seen some quite unsavory characters in the army.” Bruce mumbles an apology and Alfred waves him off.  
When he sleeps, Bruce is plagued by dreams of silent screams and cigarette smells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Bruce, the irony...


	4. Chapter 4

Ch4

Pamela catalogs everything she sees, and store them and file them away in her mind. Everything interesting, anyways. Something seems wrong in the office, and the more she looks, the more Pam realises that it’s Bruce Wayne.

Wayne is always fake, and it astounds her how no one else notices it. Happy, but a false sort of happy. Today, it seems that Wayne could not even be bothered to put up a disguise of cheerfulness. 

“Is anything wrong, Mr. Wayne?” She asks, voice low. Pam fills it with just enough obligatory concern and coolness.

Bruce looks up at her with bloodshot eyes. Yesterday’s imagery branded into his psyche. “I’m fine.” He rasps. He sounds as far away from fine as could be. She frowns, nods and walks away, filing the moment in her mind. She should discard it soon, with another memory about Harleen, who has been taking over her mind lately.

He notices Lucius sending him looks of concern, but his heart feels too heavy to go and reassure others.

When he arrives back at the manor, Alfred takes him away and tells him that the Joker is awake, and Bruce pulls on the suit to see.

“Master Bruce, I suggest you check this first.” Alfred drags up the footage of the Joker waking up. He takes one confused look at his surroundings, and starts screaming nonsense and thrashing around in the bed, yelling at Batman to face him and stop hiding, then settles down into a frozen, silent state, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Thanks, Al.” The Joker is in a much worse mental state than Bruce dreams of, but he cannot imagine going through what happened to the madman. No one, even the criminal clown, deserves this.

 

“Joker.” 

The Joker is screaming internally in frustration at his inability to escape when he hears the Batman come up at him. He holds his breath and narrows his eyes.

“Batman.” Batman looks concerned. The Joker has to commend him on his acting skills.

Bruce feels slightly injured at the Joker’s looks of distrust. He did save the man from his tormentors, from the look of it.

“Who did this to you?” Batman works hard to keep emotion away from his voice. Seeing such things happen to his arch nemesis makes him feel an uncomfortable tangle of emotions he didn’t realise he has.

The Joker gawks at him, and starts to laugh so hard that his body shakes. “A-haha-he, y-you say someone else did this, Brucey?! He says incredulously.

Batman takes a step back. “How did you know?!” The Joker scoffs. “Who is rich enough to buy those toys, over six foot tall and have brown eyes?”

Bruce takes a deep breath. “What do you mean by ‘someone else?’” The Joker glares at him, anger evident in green-brown eyes. “You know you did it, bats.”

Batman stares at the Joker, mind reeling from the accusation. He did not...how could the clown say that, when Bruce has no recollection of anything to do with the Joker for the last week or so.

“What? Bat got your tongue?” The Joker jeers and Batman clenches his fists. The madman can always ignite rage in him, make him lose control like no one else can.

“No.” The Joker bites his teeth. “No I did not.” Batman breaths out to relax himself. “Yes you did.” The Joker’s accusing and goddamn hurt look is somehow, the last thing Bruce can stand, and he sees red.

“Look at you.” Batman whispers, hand closing over the clown’s neck, other hand over his mouth. “So weak, unable to fight back.” The Joker thrashes again. “What use do you have, my pretty doll?” He removes the hand on the Joker’s neck, gripping his injured wrist instead.

Taking his hands away, Batman fists the Joker’s hair and knocks him against the railings. “You are just another worthless little criminal.”

“Why don’t you just-ugh, kill me!” The Joker bites back, wild with desperation. Batman starts to pull punches and force himself up against the clown’s thin frame when he hears Alfred.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Bruce spins around to see Alfred staring at him, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

“I don’t...” Bruce frowns. He recalls the Joker accusing him of hurting him and after that, there was nothing. “I can’t remember..” Acknowledging this was hard. Alfred eyes him warily, but seems to accept what he says. He is bound to trust his charge more than the clown. The Joker rolls his eyes.

“I gotta go!” He complains, bringing the men out of their contemplative silences. “And I’m hungry, too!” Alfred rubs the bridge of his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... Bruce is starting to have some self doubt!


	5. Chapter 5

Ch5

They stare at the Joker, happily munching on a sandwich and throwing wary glances at Batman. Alfred can tell that something is not right. The Joker seems tense and uneasy near the Batman. The few times Alfred has seen them near each other, The Joker is always relaxed and wild, unlike this cautious creature he sees now.

Alfred wonders if there could be some truth to the Joker’s words, but dismisses that thought immediately. He knows Bruce, and he knows that Bruce cannot do anything remotely similar to what has been done to the Joker. Still he wonders.

 

After Batman finishes Patrol sends the Joker, tied to a post with a call to Gordon, he settles back into the manor with Alfred, who has always been there in his times of need.

“Do you think...” His voice came out croaky and thick. “Do you think that I did it? That I could have done it?” Bruce’s head is pounding and he is sweating under his collar, despite the cool drink he is nursing.

“No, master Bruce. I don’t think you could have done it.” Alfred’s words are supposed to be reassuring, but all Bruce can hear is you did it, in the Joker’s voice, accusing and angry and without the usual mocking tone. It makes him uncomfortable.

“The Joker. He...he said I did it.” Bruce downs his drink. What the hell. The clown is back at Arkham. He deserves a break.

“And you believe him over yourself?” Bruce looks up to Alfred. Always so warm and understanding. “I...I don’t know. He dosen’t seem to be lying.” Bruce can see the truth in his eyes. “It does not mean he is telling the truth, though.” Bruce looks at Alfred and understands. “You think that someone made him think that I did it?” A sudden hope springs up in his chest.

“It would be the most logical conclusion, master Bruce.”

 

When Harleen hears that the Joker is back at Arkham and that she has been assigned as his psychiatrist, she almost danced in joy. 

“Pam!” She squeals into the phone and tells Pam her news. Harley is glad that she has found someone to match her wits. They are made for each other.

 

When the Joker wakes in the Arkham infirmary, he tries to go to sleep again. When sleep comes, Batman’s words and actions echos in his mind when he sleeps, and he finds himself waking up, barley an hour after he falls, shaking and sweating.

This is not like Batman, no. But he can tell it’s him, and not someone playing dress-up. The only question is why he took him back to the cave, to look after his injuries. It made no sense.

He sees the nurses looking at him with fear. They should. 

He sees to guards at the door, waiting to take him back to his ‘room’ as soon as news that he has woken reached their pitiful ears. Brainless Drones, the lot of them.

The guards grunt as they wheel him out of the infirmary. “You gotta meetin’ wif a brain doctor.” The larger man mumbles. What’s his name? Freddy? Frank? Not like he cared. “I think that you, my dear, needs a meeting ‘wif da brain doctor.’” He sneers. “But then none of you actually have brains.”

The guard growls at him to shut up, and the Joker just laughs. “Stop laughing, clown.” The other guard, a tight-lipped man with a balding head and a permanent frown (he should give him a smile, later. Frowning so much is unhealthy.)

“Ya know, I heard that you were real fucked up when they brought you in.” The larger guard says pointedly, and the Joker stiffens. How did they know? Or is this man jesting, hoping to get a rise out of him. It seems like he can’t underestimate these people.

“Oh? And how messed up was I?” He spits and the guard snorts. “Heard they broke your ribs and beat ya up real bad.” The Joker gave no reply. He dosen’t know. 

How strange, for him to not want to flaunt his injuries, markings from the bat. (He no longer thinks of him as his bat.) But this injury stretches deeper than the others. He could have taken the beatings and the shock and the burns with nary a laugh, but the Batman. Taking him and marking him. 

Maybe Batman has managed to finally break him, he thinks. He broke me, and how easy it was. So easy that it’s almost laughable. His train of thought is distracted by the psychiatrist’s babbling, bringing him back to the real world. The Joker wonders if he can take the broken edges of his wounded self can cut others open, to see them bleed like he did.

But he is not broken. He feels more in shock than anything. The Joker does not break and shatter easily. Batman wounded him and made him bleed, from his body to his mind, taking away his voice and self. But he is still himself, the whole package. And he laughs with glee, a small weight, previously unnoticed, leaves his shoulders.

“Are you all right?” The blond woman asks, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Just peachy, ma’am.” He says cheekily, and this one laughs in glee. 

“Well, I will need you to tell me what happened to you, Mr. Joker.” Harley says, almost rubbing her hands together out of anticipation.

“You wanna know how I got these scars?” He leers at her, but the woman remains professional. “No. But I want to know what happened to you. The last few days, I mean.” The Joker’s grin freezes on his face.

“Nothing happened to me.” He grits out. The words sounds as false as they felt.

“Nothing can’t make you come in, stitched and bandaged with bruises and broken bones, though.” Harley feels concern for this man. While the others see pure evil wrapped up in a human form, she sees a man, injured beyond belief and wanting to burn everything in the world as he dances with his foe. She knows because she feels the same for Pam.

“Can I ask a question, jaybird?” She asks. He raises an eyebrow. “Jaybird? Seriously?”

“Why so serious?” Harley tells him. The Joker falls into a fit of giggles. 

“Who beat you up so badly?” The Joker grins. People, no matter how funny they seem, are all so predictable. “Batman.”

Harley tries to conceal her shock. She sees the scars and the burn marks, and she believes that Batman, no matter if he has killed or not, is still the dark warrior that protects Gotham. 

“I believe you.” She whispers.

“No need to lie.” The Joker looks like a cat. Harley endeavors to ask Pam about this. She is so smart and observant. Maybe she can sneak her in with a session. Or tape the sessions. Pam can tell from tapes too, but not as well as in person.

“Good day, Jaybird.” She ends the session and the Joker is taken back, silent apart from a small burst of hysterical giggles all the way.

“Is this what you want, Batman? Me trapped here? Or do you want to take me, tie me up and brand me to be yours?” The Joker vows that this would not happen. He never breaks his promises(well, almost never.) and this one is to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to make my Joker too flirty and joking, for some reason. But he is affected by what happened to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch6

Bruce wakes up with a killer hangover that morning, events of last night flooding his mind. Somehow, he finds it reassuring that Alfred thinks it’s someone else who convinced the Joker it was him who did such vile things, but he cannot excuse himself the behaviour in the medical bay.

All Bruce can remember is talking with the Joker, and then seeing red, and being called by Alfred. There is too much uncertainty. And there is no escape from the accusing stare of the clown. My clown.

Bruce blinks. What the hell was that?! His mind goes to strange places. He needs a drink right now. No. He has to be stone cold sober to be Batman. Any alcohol could be the difference between life and death, with the Gotham police force also after him.

He sees Pamela Isley at a cafe and asks her over to discuss her ideas on a new project. Her obsession with plants has been an office joke for as long as he could remember.

“You know the Joker?” She asks and he tenses, mind racing. Does she know? If she does there should be some offer to a ransom, but you never know. He looks and decides that she does not know, but he will have to be cautious.

Pamela sees Bruce Wayne freezing up when she mentions the Joker. She files that away in her mind. She suppose it is to do with the madman killing his childhood friend.

“What a-about the Joker?” Bruce chokes out, and Pam is even more suspicious. 

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that my girlfriend wants to be his full time psychiatrist and take on less patients, and you are on the Arkham board...”

Bruce sinks down into his chair in relief. Pam notes that down. Bruce Wayne seems to be hiding something to do with the Joker. She needs to test that.

“Er, I could try, but you know that all I do is throw money to Arkham.” He smiles at her idiotically. It usually works.

“It is for a good cause. Harley told me the Joker came in to Arkham beaten up into a bloody pulp. She seems convinced he is hiding something.” Pam takes the guise of making small talk. 

Bruce pales. She seems to be baiting him. “Well, I’m just glad the menance is off the streets.” He did not say he is glad for what happened to the Joker. There is no need for guilt, when he knows that the madman is back in Arkham.

Flash! Snap! The two turn around from their coffee to see the retreating back of a paparazzi. Bruce stands up to chase after him.

“No need.” Isley says to him and pays for their food, then leaves, leaving Bruce standing there gaping like an idiot. He needs to brush up on his acting skills, if Isley is able to figure anything else out, his guise is in danger.

 

When the Joker sees Harley again, she has a video camera. “What is that for?” He asks. He never liked cameras.

“I’m recording footage of you telling me what happened. My girlfriend, Pam. She can tell when people are lying.”

His eyes narrowed. “So you say I’m, uh, lying.” “No, not lying. But if you say Batman did do it...” He nods. The camera still makes him uneasy, but as long as she does not take any photos. He speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made Pam a plant obsessed genius with observational skills, while bats and J and Harley are also geniuses at their respective fields lol.


	7. Chapter 7

　　　　　Ch7  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Tell me what Happened to you.” Harley asks, barely containing her excitement. She happens to be the first doctor to manage to get the Joker to open up, even if they were not talking about his past. It’s a start.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Well, I was just out one night, ya know, when Bats came bout and knocked me out with some drug.” He quirks an eyebrow at Harley’s look of disbelief, daring her to say anything. It’s obvious she is one of Batman’s supporters.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Then he, uh, left me tied up for a day, came back, bet me up a bit, dunked my head in water, beat me up some more, and here I am.”  
　　　　　He didn’t elaborate on what happens the next day. It was none of her business.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“How did you get that?” She inquires, pointing to a scar on his neck. He scowls at her. “Shock collar.” Harley gapes. There is no way that Batman would do something like that. “What?!”   
　　　　　  
　　　　　“You don’t need to believe me.” The Joker looks like he is about to retreat back into his shell again. “No…no. I just need a moment…” Harley trails off. He nods, staring at her blankly.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The Joker wonders. Why can’t he say it? Tell the brain doctor what is wrong with him and get fixed, like a broken toy. He scoffs at the ludicrous idea and catches her worried look.   
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Look, I’ll show Pam this video, and she’ll see…” She seems embarrassed. “What, see if I am lying?” Her face turns red. Really, why are these people so afraid of talking about what they think? Nothing wrong with that, keeping everything bottled up is unhealthy. He tries not to think about his refusal to talk about what Batman did.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The rest of the day in Arkham is spent in utter boredom. Nothing to do, but they did let him into the rec room with Harley’s vote of confidence. Maybe he wouldn’t kill this one after he escapes. That is in the future of course, he needs a little break now.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Harley watches Pam, pursing her lips and watching the short recorded video. Pam speaks up suddenly.  
　　　　　“He is telling the truth.” Harley almost falls off the couch. “You mean Batman really did that?!” She says in shock.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“No. I think he did more. The Joker is hiding something. It must have been traumatic, for someone like that to hide like that.” Harley contemplates that. “I think we should find Batman.” Pam laughs at that. “Like he would talk to us.”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“We should try!” Harley leaps up. “I can’t believe that! HE SHOULD BE A HERO!” Harley feels a small string of betrayal, from the city’s dark knight, who saved her from some muggers. (She was about to take them down with her gymnastics skills, but the help was welcome. And Batman did acknowledge her skills.)  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“You go, and take the video.” Pam sounds wary of meeting the Batman.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“We go together.” Harley pouts at her lover. It usually works. Pam nods and rolls her eyes, but still agrees to go.   
　　　　　  
　　　　　They sneak out into the night, pretending to be suspicious, to draw the attention of Batman. To their delight, the dark knight noticed them sneaking about.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“It’s dangerous here, get out.” Needless to say, Bruce is surprised at seeing Pamela Isley and Is that her girlfriend? Here. “No.” Pam glares at Batman. “We have something to show you. It’s to do with the Joker.” Batman’s heart sinks. He has a bad feeling about this. “What is it? The clown is in Arkham.”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Yeah, It’s that.” Harley piped up. “I’m his doctor at Arkham” Bruce wants to get out of there quickly. Now he is being accused of fucking rape by the Joker’s bloody therapist?! No. The Joker would not be one to tell anyone, so the women must have figured it out somehow. They will be in danger if the Joker knows.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“What is it.” Batman is impatient. He hears a rumour that the Joker’s old gang has been gathering, to break him out of Arkham.   
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Do you have a video player?” Harley asks. It just happens there is a video player in the tumbler, for reviewing footage. “Yes.” Batman replies roughly. They play the video and Bruce frowns. The Joker does not seem to be lying, yet he has no recollection of anything that happened, apart from anger, and even that is too vague. Batman reassures himself that this has nothing to do with him.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Soo...” Harley says pointedly, Pam giving a cold look to Batman. She doesn’t really care about the Joker, no. She don’t care for people, unless they are Harley, but she is interested in the case. Anything that takes her interest is worth pursuing.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“I will look into it. Go, now.” Harley glares at Batman, and opens her mouth to say something, but Pam tugs her away, fuming at the dark knight.   
　　　　　  
　　　　　“It’s like he dosen’t care at all!” She shouts later that night, Pam rubbing her shoulders. “He has no reason to care, you know. As far as he goes the Joker is in the Asylum.”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“You can’t just treat people like that! He should be helping them!” Sometimes, Pam finds herself jealous of Harley’s naivety.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Bruce reviews the tape with Alfred, over and over again. “It looks like he is telling the truth, but-” Alfred cuts him off. “Don’t fret over it, master Bruce. I’m sure the truth will come out.” But Alfred still feel a tendril of suspicion. The way Bruce acted in Medical, injuring an injured man was unbecoming of him.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Bruce rubs his temples. “I don’t know, Alfred, I really don’t know.” He needs to know if someone is doing it to the Joker in Arkham. Maybe he can clear his name, then, even if he has no idea why he wants the clowns approval. (forgiveness?).  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Bruce Wayne needs to see the Joker. Tomorrow.” Alfred starts to protest the idea, saying that it is dangerous. “Sorry, Al, but I have to do this. I just have to know.” Alfred sighs an agreement.   
　　　　　Tomorrow it is.  
　　　　　

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Brucie is still in denial! And our ladies are getting angry, lol.  
> What do you think Bruce is going to say when he sees J?


	8. Chapter 8

“You are nothing, weak, childish little-” The Joker bites back a gasp as Batman reaches down to knock him around some more, lips bleeding, trying to stop Batman from ripping his clothes.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Get away-mmf!” Batman slams his head onto the floor, and all he wants is to get away. Fight time with Batman seems to lose it’s attractiveness. A sharp pain enters him and he can see Batman, moving on top of him, and suddenly Joker can’t move, freezes in time as his foe defiles him.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Just be a good little fuck toy, My clown.”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The Joker chokes on a scream.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Opening his eyes, Joker looks around in the cell, wondering why is he not chained down, when he recalls that he is in Arkham.  
　　　　　“What the hell.” He flops over and tries to sleep again, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is Batman standing over him, button in his hand and that goddamn collar around his neck.  
　　　　　  
\--------------- 　　　　　By morning all the Joker had was a night of a few hours fitful sleep and no coffee, which is why he almost ripped the head of the doctor who told him that Bruce fucking Wayne wants to see him. Just thinking about the Batman makes him feel pissed off.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Wheeled to a room in a straight jacket, Joker rolls his eyes at the tense guards besides him, giving a nod to good ole’ Dr Crane who passed next to him. He should take some time to get to know the guy better.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Wayne looks nervous. Joker glares at him.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Please, no cameras.” Bruce flashes the guards and doctors his best smile.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The guard nods. “If ‘e does anything jus’ press the button.” He points to a red button on Bruce’s side of the desk, as the other guards strapped the Joker to a chair.”  
　　　　　“What do you want with me, Wayne?”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“I just want to see if you, are...” Batman trails off. How is he supposed to face the man who believes...what he believes?  
　　　　　The Joker sits, face stormy and tapping his feet against the ground. Against his better judgment, Bruce presses the button and lets himself out.  
　　　　　  
\------------------ 　　　　　Three days later, Batman hears that the Joker has escaped and heads out, finding the clown slaughtering a group of mobsters in an abandoned warehouse.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“What are you doing.” Batman feels outrage at the loss of human life, even if none of these men are anyone innocent.  
　　　　　The Joker freezes. “Why Brucie I’m jus’ doing what I am good at.”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Batman moves, and lands a punch on the Joker’s face, but is kicked in the chest by a frantically moving leg. The Joker takes the opportunity and runs, as Batman catches up. A bullet grazes past his ear.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Joker turns, seeing Batman holding a gun and he curses, having dropped his knives and the dead mobster’s weapons too far to reach. Batman grabs him hi his hands and forces the Joker down on his knees, pushing the gun against his temple.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Batman reaches to unclasp parts of his suit. “Don’t move.”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The Joker kneels, as still as he can be, mind whirling. No, he dosen’t want to die like this, here in an unknown warehouse, Batman the last thing he sees. He wonders if this is how the people he killed feels, but all he can feel is numbness and pain, but not fear. Never fear. His knees and face is uncomfortably hot, and his body cold, back tinged with sweat. He is not supposed to die like this, by a gunshot instead of a fight.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　I’m gonna die, he thinks, and regrets not putting on some face paint.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Open your mouth.” Batman says, gun cold against the Joker’s temple, he does that, and Batman shove himself in, hand still firmly on the gun, other hand in the Joker’s hair, pumping himself into scarred lips.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The Joker hopes that his body wouldn’t show signs of defilement as he gagged and choked on Batman’s length, his knees throbbing dully against the pavement.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Batman lets out a groan as the hot mouth of the clown covers him. He climaxes into his clown’s mouth and pulls out, shoving the Joker on his back.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Dressing himself with one hand, Batman taunts.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The Joker watches impassively, in shock over what just occurred. “I love you.” Batman pats his cheek and whispers, a sick parody. The drops the gun onto the floor and walks out.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　The Joker rushes back to a nearby apartment, not noticing a black figure following him.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Batman catches sight of the Joker, and breaths a sigh of relief. He finds himself standing dumbly outside a warehouse, only to see the Joker rushing out of it. Following the clown back to a apartment, he sees the Joker brush his teeth and gulp water and mouth wash over and over again.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Rushing in, Batman catches the Joker by his shoulders. “You are going back to Arkham.” Batman growls, turning to cuff the Joker.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“Arne’t you gonna finish what you started?” The Joker mumbles. Batman frowns. “I saw you running out of a warehouse. Not very careful tonight.” The Joker lunges at the Bat, who apparently has amnesia again.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“At least admit what you did!” The Joker slaps Batman in the face with a free hand, and is caught and cuffed again.  
　　　　　Batman knocks him out with a blow to the face. “Tell me what I did.”  
　　　　　  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Bruce goes home that night, knowing that Gotham is safer. He would need to check out the warehouse again, but what the Joker said has him reeling. What did he mean?  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Looks like Bruce Wayne needs to pay the Joker another visit, he mused, and freezes when he realises a familiar sticky feeling in his underwear. What the hell.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　  
　　　　　At Arkham Asylum, the Joker wakes yet again, cursing the Batman. Next time he needs to be more careful in his escapes, and in avoiding Batman.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　Joker tosses in bed, not quite believing what just happened.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　“I am a fucking wreck.” He whispers to himself.  
　　　　　  
　　　　　

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am starting to dislike Batman more and more in this fic lol. Poor mr J!


	9. Chapter 9

Ch9

Harley takes one look at the Joker to know that something is wrong. The man has back rings around his eyes that can rival his paint, and looks more sullen than ever, not saying a word.

“What happened?” She asks softly. “Nothing.” The Joker grumbles. The doctor is persistent. 

“Is it Batman?” Harley knows that she just hit jackpot. At the mention of Batman. The Joker’s eyes flashes and he bares his teeth, but lacks in the usual delight that she expects to see on the Joker’s face when Batman is mentioned. A second later that look disappears, and the Joker’s face becomes an impassive mask again.

“It’s none of your business.” The Joker growls. People who persists in knowing his business irritates him greatly. Harley sighs as she knows she can’t get anything out from the Joker. She thinks that group therapy would help, but so far the other doctors are reluctant unless he wears a straightjacket. Harley can see that the Joker hates to be restrained.

“We will be having group therapy with some lower level patients tomorrow, please be on your best behaviour.” The Joker seems thoroughly disturbed when he was brought in. She wonders what Batman could have done.

The Joker rolls his eyes at her and heads to the cafeteria. Hell’s kitchen, truly. At least these people are willing to give him coffee. It’s pizza night tonight, but the lunch is horrible. He hears Crane wondering behind him whether the pale pile of mashed potatoes is moving. He bet it is.  
\--------------------

Bruce stare at the computer screen, cold sweat running down his back. A video footage from a camera he dosen’t recognize in a room he has no idea that is there.

He clicked on the footage, eyes widening and breath quickening at the things that unfurled on the screen. When it shows footage of him raping the Joker, he slams the power source, closing the screen. Breathing heavily, Bruce slides down onto the floor, head leaning against the cold war.

Then the memories hit. Him, losing his senses to rage and anger, all the learned control thrown out of the window, lust and desire blending in with an urge to punish and burn. He gave the Joker that horrendous scar on his neck, he collared the criminal like an animal, strapping him down and marking him.

And last night. Last night he held a gun to the Joker’s head and forced him to suck his dick. 

There is no excuse for what he did. No one deserves this.

“I am a monster.” Bruce moans into his hands, and staggers off to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, he sees bloodshot eyes and strands of hair falling over his face.

“Oh god. What have I done?!” He curls up into a ball, the Joker’s words and actions making much more sense than ever.

“And I-I have the gall to bring him back here, to ask who did it to him while the real perpetrator stands in front of him.” Tears slide down his face and Bruce makes no effort to stop them. 

But what happened last night. What he said to the Joker. He told him that he loved him, words said in a mocking fashion. He imagines that no one has really loved the Joker.

Bruce stands up shakily, the memories haunting him. He knows they will haunt him as long as he lives. And he will deserve it.  
He wants to go find the Joker, right now, and get down on his knees and apologise. He needs to do that, it dosen’t matter what the madman has done. He needs to do this.

Bruce stalks out of the Bathroom, only to find himself almost walking into Alfred. 

“Master Bruce! Are you all right?!” Alfred asks, surprised at Bruce’s face.

“I did it, Alfred.” Bruce says before stopping himself. He needs to tell someone. He stops Alfred from saying anything.

“I did it to the Joker.” There is no need to say what ‘it’ is as Alfred’s eyes opens comically.

“But-“ Alfred attempts to cut in, the shock of Bruce’s words affecting him greatly.

“I remember. Everything. I lost control and-“ Bruce cuts himself up, voice thick and choked. “There is a video...” Alfred nods and turns.  
Watching Alfred’s retreating back, Bruce sits down and grabs a bottle of scotch. He knows he should not drink any alcohol, but his mind and emotions is a mess, and he needs something, anything to help him forget.

 

Watching the video, Alfred’s face grows darker and darker as his charge’s actions become more and more violent. By the time Batman rips off the Joker’s pants, Alfred closes the video, knowing what happens after.

Alfred takes a deep breath. No. He decides. He will not leave Bruce here. What he did is horrifying, but Bruce needs help and he can see it.

“Bruce.” He walks and sees his charge knocking back a mouthful of scotch.  
“Bruce. I’m not leaving.

Bruce turns to face Alfred. “What did I do?” He asks, voice haunted and scratchy.

“You did a terrible thing. But you need help and I will not leave.” Alfred sounds so determined.

“What if I lose control again?!” Bruce sits down, alcohol taking away his inhibitions. “Last night. Last night I-I put a gun to the Joker’s temple and force him to suck my-to suck my…” Bruce cuts himself off.

Alfred rubs his temples. “I think we need to go get you a therapist.” Bruce shakes his head. “Gotham needs Batman.” He looks out of a window.

Alfred sighs. “I will not leave. And Gotham needs Batman with no self-worth problems.” He looks at the scotch. “And no drinking problem.” Bruce takes another gulp of the golden liquid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the angst to Bruce, it seems. Should he actually get on his knees?


	10. Chapter 10

Ch10

Bruce breaths and fixes his suit again. Waiting in Dr Arkham’s office to get permission to see the Joker. He knows he needs to, last night’s revelations heavy on his mind.

Now here he stands, facing the man he faced yesterday morning, feeling completely different.

“I” Bruce says and the Joker looks up, hair a golden mess and face twitching. Large rings of black surrounds his eyes, evidence of little to no sleep. Bruce wonders how much of that can be contributed to him. 

Bruce gulps. “I remember.” The Joker looks at him, still not speaking. “I remember what I-I did. To you.” That catches the Joker’s interest.

“Selective amnesia, eh?” He looks haggered and tired, a different man. Then the Joker laughs, coming out in wips, sounding exactly like a hyena. Maybe not such a different man. 

“I’m sorry.” The Joker ignores him, picking at the fraying ends of his jumpsuit. “Mmh.” Bruce can’t bring himself to say anything. Instead he looks at his nemesis, and sees a boy. The Joker’s face is surprisingly youthful, but lacking the usual energy. He dosen’t look a day older than twenty five. It makes the guilt in Bruce’s stomach twist up even more.

The scars roam across his face, but without the paint, they are less like a grotesque grin and more of two pitted and twisted lines across his face. Honey blond hair, and greenish eyes. Bruce glances away from his lips.

The Joker could have been beautiful. Bruce swipes across his face again. He still is. He wonders again. Whether this man has ever been loved. He doubts it. For all he has done, Batman can’t bring himself to hate the Joker now, not because he has forgotten what the Joker did, but because he hates himself even more. Because he should know better.

“Like what you see?” Bruce snaps out of his contemplation. The Joker glances at him, curious but cautious, and Bruce can see that he is wary of him. He would be cautious of himself, as well.

“Are you just here to, uh, glo-at in my face, or is there actually something else?” The Joker sneers, pushing the chair as far away from Bruce as he can, in the small, dimly lit room. Bruce feels a twang of hurt at the accusation.  
“I’m-I’m not here to.” Bruce shakes his head. “No.” 

“You think ya broke me so easily, batsss?” The Joker hisses, voice full of venom. Of course not. Bruce thinks. He wouldn’t be the Joker, a criminal mastermind if he breaks easily. 

“No.” The Joker is not broken, but he is different. Changed. Less outrageously flirtatious. Taken by silence more often. Bruce don’t blame him. And the Joker is a lot more cautious and watchful. Bruce hates the changes.

“Sorry.” He whispers to the Joker. He thinks that he will be saying that word for the rest of his life.

“Are you gonna jus’ keep coming here until I say ‘all is forgiven’ or somethin’?” The Joker shuffles in his seat. Bruce shakes his head. Forgiveness is not something he expects.

He presses the button and lets himself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brucie is always getting rejected by the Joker. Jk


	11. Chapter 11

Ch11

When Bruce shows up back in the penthouse, Alfred is waiting for him, pensive and aged. 

“I would suggest you to stop doing that.” He points to a bottle of scotch in Bruce’s hands. Bruce ignores him and leaves for his room. Alfred sighs, looking and feeling years older. He worries for Bruce, who seems to be drinking like a fish lately, and patrolling until the wee hours of the morning, coming back bruised and fatigued. But drilling the fact that no, Alfred does not hate him through the young man’s brain seems to be a task too large for him.

As for the Joker, whom Bruce insists on visiting so often, Alfred can safely say that it’s complicated. It is best not to mention him in front of Bruce.

\-----------  
Bruce downs another mouthful of scotch, and thinks back to his visits to the Joker. The accusations still hurts, despite the man who said them has murdered Rachel.

Thinking about Rachel brings another pang to his stomach. She is right. He should have given up on Batman. Look at where it lead him. But he needs Batman, and she knows that, and chooses a normal life. He can't blame her.

The Joker killed her, and he let anger and a thirst for revenge get the better of him. 

“Stop.” He tries to tell himself. Drowning in self pity is not the best way to go at things. But he can’t. Not when green eyes haunts his dreams and nightmares, the look in them from the night at the warehouse speaking volumes about who Bruce really is. 

He thinks that the Joker can't drag him down to his level, because he is already worse than the painted man.

He wants to know. Wants to know what made the Joker the way he is. Full of fire and burning with chaos, and he wonders if it really is him, Batman, who drew the madman from wherever he was out of hiding and into Gotham. Bruce takes another swig.

"A-another." He slurs at Alfred after another glass. The disappointment in Alfred's eyes deepening his self loathing.  
\-----------

“What do you think about Bruce Wayne?” Harley inquires, interested in why the billionaire playboy is suddenly keen to play shrinky with the Joker. Is psychology suddenly a new interest amongst the rich and famous?

Harley sees, out of the corner that the Joker suppresses a flash of anger. She supposes that the cockroaches at the top angers him, like they anger many others. 

“Wayne jus’ wanna play the shrink or something.’ Think it makes him, uh, special.” His lips curls. Harley nods. She has no feelings of goodwill towards Wayne, anyways. She supposes that it’s affected by Pam’s low opinion of the man.

And she can’t stand the idea of her patient being some sort of party talk, for Wayne to whip out and impress the rest of high society for.

“Soo…How do you feel about group therapy?” Harley asks. The Joker rolls his eyes. “I’m assuming I have group therapy because of the, I dunno, extra chairs?” He looks around him. 

The guards opens the door and eyes the Joker warily. He grins and waves, hands free as Harley insists that he is not to be strapped down.

Two men and a woman sits down on various chairs around them. Kevin Chen, short Asian guy. Generally nice, pretty sweet to others, but is unpredictable and dangerous, having killed thirteen people by strangulation and choking. Not a good idea to expose your neck around him. Diagnoses, unsure.

Rosie Bennet, very pretty girl. Dark hair and bright blue eyes, full, pink lips curled up into a feral grin similar to the Joker’s. Seems to have a knack for poisoning people, but according to police records, have also strangled, stabbed and set fire to others around her. Deep hatred of people in general, and great physical strength. Not a good idea to leave her unattended, or be alone with her. She has BPD, and maybe some other mental illnesses as well.

Johnny ‘papa wolf’ West. Driven mad by the death of his family, he sets out and murdered three families of five. Mother, Father, two sons and a daughter, just like his family. He is known to kill the fathers last, forcing them to watch as their families died. Diagnoses unknown.

The three all ended up in the Asylum before the Joker even came to Gotham, but the Joker's notoriety has all reached them.

"All right boys and girls!" Harley seems boisterous and unfazed by such a dangerous group of the criminally insane.

"Lets introduce ourselves! I am Dr Quinzel, but you can all call me Harley!" The four 'patients' eyes each other up and down, as if assessing the dangers of talking too early. Johnny West ended up introducing himself first. The people around him does not seem like ones to have families, but he will have to ask.

The Joker smacks his lips and say that they know who he is already, and Rosie Bennet addresses them with all the confidence of a femme fatale, remaining alert at all times.

Kevin Chen appears shy and soft, but the others can see that he has the eyes and the air of a killer.

"Lets get this party started!" The Joker is quite happy with some new playmates, some of them may be useful for getting out of this dump.

Harley makes the Joker talk first, about his childhood, so he told her the story where mommy touched him and daddy hit him and he took the knife to his face to finally make himself smile.

"You are lying." Kevin says softly, and instantly all eyes in the room are on him. "Now, now, boys." Harley intervenes. "Play nice, wouldcha?" Joker sticks his tongue out.

"Ya know, kevvy boy," The black haired man looks at Joker impassively, obviously very smart and dangerous. He knows the Joker can see through his mask of sweetness, so he decides not to use any masks. 

The Joker's mouth tugs into a feral grin. "I like my past to be, uh, multi-choicesss" Harley tries not to frown when the time is up. She does want to help these people, but she can see that most of them may not want any help.

"All right guys, I think our time is up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think about my ocs and their backstories? They will be pretty minor in the fic though, so breath if you don't like ocs. :D And how do you think the story should go on?
> 
> I'll be leaving for vacation, so updates would be sparse.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch12

The Joker whistles happily as he sat down for food. Even the foul pile of mashed potatoes, grey meat and limp vegetables can't ruin his good mood. These people are much more interesting to pick apart than the usual depressed housewife and lonely businessman, now that he refuses to think about Batman.

The thought of Batman instantly destroys his mood. "Dammit." Joker swears and stabs his food with a plastic fork. Why did the bastard intend on meeting him in Arkham? And so apologizing, too. Obviously the guy just wants to remind him, again and again with that mug of his, of what the hell has happened.

His mind wonders back to when Batman told him 'I love you.' The previously offensive words becomes more dangerous, twisting in his stomach the way it wouldn't if anyone else has said it, in such a mocking fashion to him.

Because in the end, the Joker came to Gotham for Batman. And everything was not what he wanted, in the end. Truth be told, the Joker is pissed off at himself, for thinking that Batman is predictable in his righteous anger and penance for justice.

He hopes that Batman won't visit him again. As much as Joker hates to admit it, seeing the guy just reminds him and makes his nights so much worse, staring at the dark and waiting for a bat to drop out of the ceiling, like a bat out of hell. He giggles at his own joke.

The Joker starts stabbing his food when he hears a clink next to him. Turning around, he sees Kevin Chen, the guy from 'group therapy' calmly tucking into his mash next to him.

"Eh, ya seem braver than most." The Joker leers. "Not braver." Kevin turns and stares at Joker, eyes black pools of calmness. "Just smarter than most."   
"Most, ah, smar-t people tend to avoid me." Joker takes a piece of Kevin's meat. "Whaddaya say?" Kevin ignores him and eats.

"Hey." He sees Johnny West sitting next to him as well. Joker ignores them.  
"Don't cha wanna get out of this dump?" Johnny asks Kevin, who replies with a "mmf." 

"Everyone wants ta get outta here." The Joker smirks. "They tell me I'm the, uh, only one who has done it." "Recently." They look up and sees Rosie Bennet. "You are the only one who has escaped recently. We have all done so before." The Joker shrugs. 

"Hey boys." Rosie looks like a cat who caught the canary. Kevin sighs and leans back, licking his lips at her and flirting lazily. "I'd be turned on if I weren't asexual, ya know." Rosie winks at Kevin.

"Why the hell are you all here?" The Joker is quite irritated. Usually people shrink away from him and he welcomes that, and suddenly a group of people who seems not to be running away screaming bloody murder just appears out of nowhere and is attempting conversation with him.

"We know all the little creaks and cracks in the Asylum. You in?" Johnny whispers. "We are perfectly fine here, though." He winks at the Joker.

"Then why are you asking me?" The Joker notices a guard heading over out of the corner of his eye. 

"We can make the doctors and nurses spin around our fingers," Rosie leans over at him. "We think that you fit in better out there." The Joker narrows his eyes. "Fit in? Fitting in isn't exactly what I wan-t." Kevin nods. "I can tell you have unfinished business out there. Besides, we don't want any...competition for this place." The Joker scoffs. 

"Hey, what are you all doing?!" A big guard glares at the strange group, tone gruff. "Why frank-ey" The Joker leans in. "It's Fred." The others can see the guard is sweating now. Rosie licks her lips at him. 

"Is talking illegal now?" The Joker licks his scars. It's delightful how people are unnerved by such a simple little gesture. The burly guard stalks away, still keeping an eye on the table. Many other inmates scoots away from the four, knowing who they are and sensing the danger.

\------------  
Bruce swirls a small cup of wine in his hand, watching the red liquid (like blood!) move in the glass, light reflecting of it's many sides.   
Batman knows for sure that he is not to drink alcohol, but ever since finding out what he has done, any moment not spent drunk off his mind is spent mulling over the details of the events.

He takes another sip, the look in the Joker's eyes, the betrayal and uncertainty and the hurt, branded into his psyche.

"Fuck!" Bruce roars, leaping up from the chair and hurling the glass against the wall, watching it shatter into a million brilliantly colourful pieces as the dark red liquid slide down the wall. 

"I would suggest not to take out your frustration on the glasses, sir." Alfreds cool voice sounds behind Bruce's ears.

"Sorry." Bruce mutters.

"Are you going to see the Joker again?" Alfred feels great concern for the man. Seeing the Joker so often will just remind him, again and again of what has occurred, like ripping open a newly formed scab and poring salt into the wound.

Bruce nods. Seeing the Joker is like therapy of some sorts. Or an addiction. It makes him hurt with guilt, seeing the man so tired and angry and different, despite the murderous nature of the clown. Because he needs a constant reminder of what he has done, so he will never have another lapse and do it again.

Alfred knows he needs to stop Bruce's degeneration into darkness. The man did a terrible thing, but he needs to be helped and not be thrown away, which will push him further down the road of madness.

A therapist should do him good. But who can he trust in the whole truth with? He needs to ask Mr Fox, perhaps he knows someone who is good enough.


	13. Chapter 13

Ch13  
"Why the hell is Bruce Wayne wanting to see my patient again." Harley is seething in anger at Dr Arkham, and the man clad in a rich black suit that probably costs more than her apartment.

"Mr Wayne contributes greatly to the Asylum-" Jeremiah Arkham is unwilling to argue with the young doctor, as she is one of the best psychiatrists in Arkham and many high security patients trusts her. 

However, the brilliant young doctor is on the verge of greatly insulting one of the Asylum's biggest contributors, whose numbers dipped quite a bit when a warehouse full of bodies, faces slashed in bloody grins shows up after the Joker's latest escape. The Asylum cannot afford to let Bruce Wayne slip away.

"I DON'T CARE!" Harley is screaming now. "EVERYTIME HE SHOWS UP THE PATIENT JUST BECOMES MORE VOLATILE!"

She points a finger at Bruce. "He has nightmares that just gets worse when you come here, he-you bastard!" "DOCTOR QUINZEL!" Dr Arkham is almost hyperventilating. Harley huffs, eyes wide in anger.  
"Look" Bruce tries to step in. "Just calm down-" "CALM DOWN!" Harley shoves Dr Arkham, who is stammering frightened apologies at Bruce.

"WHY THE HELL SHOULD I CALM DOWN! YOU DON'T SEE HOW HARD IT IS TO CALM HIM DOWN AFTER HE HAS A GODDAMN FIT?!" Harley clasps a hand over her mouth. She swore to herself not to tell anyone of the Joker's panic attacks, which he appears to have no memories of once he recovers.

"Nevermind." Harley steps away from the two men.

"I apolpgise greatly, Mr Wayne-" Jeremiah hopes he dosen't have to fire Dr Quinzel to appeal the billionaire. Good doctors are extremely hard to find, especially in a place like Arkham, where the injury rate of doctors and nurses and guards alike a higher than even some high security prisons that house non insane inmates.

"No worries." Bruce mutters and steps aside. The Joker's condition, it seems, is much worse than what he sees, insomnia and layers of sarcasm and jabs and insults.

The Joker has panic attacks. That alone has him clenching his fists in anger and sickness. Bruce is sickened at his own actions, and selfish motivations for visiting the Joker. The wine feels light on his heavy tongue, and he wishes to be back at the manor, and to down maybe another bottle of scotch for his nerves.

Bruce steps into the meeting room, but is unable to meet the Joker's eyes. Not like he can do that without feeling a crippling guilt in his guts. 

"Hi Batsss." The Joker licks his scars. "Nice ta, uh, see you again." "Do you.." Bruce holds his breath. The Joker grins at him, mocking and unwelcome in his young but so fatigued face.

"Are you all right?" Bruce asks, slightly drunk from this morning. "Do I have something on my face?" The Joker jokes. 

Feeling braver than usual and fueled by alcohol, Bruce reaches over and cups his face. The Joker's grin freezes. 

"You're so...." Bruce slurs and the Joker laughs, still strapped in a   
straightjacket locked in a cameraless room together with the man who violated him.  
"Strange tastes, Bats." Bruce strokes his cheek and scars. The Joker, sensing that Bruce is not jeering and smelling the alcohol on the man's breath. Joker struggles in the straps, trying in vain to reach the button that lets Bruce out, not caring about the strange sight that the guards and doctors would see.

Bruce leans down and kisses the Joker. Not the bloody bites that masqueraded as kisses in their previous encounters, but soft, lips to lips and not drawing blood.

"Sorry." Bruce whispers once he pulls away. "I-I love you." He says to the Joker, and lets himself out, too ashamed to call the guards.

Bruce feels lightheaded as he walks out, eyes vacant. He kissed the Joker without meaning to, further destroying whatever trust he is hoping to rebuild. Why is he trying to rebuild any imaginary trust? He has no idea. Bruce has a sudden urge to slam his head against the nearest wall, whatever the guards may think of him.

He vaguely remembers telling the Joker that he loves hi-. Bruce stops abruptly. Saying the words that he told the Joker the night in the warehouse again-

"I fucked up." Bruce says out aloud, the people escorting him eyeing him like an alien. He told a man words that would certainly bring back awful memories and he expects to be-

Bruce has no idea what he expects from these visits, apart from the fact that he needs them like he needs air and like he really, really needs another bottle of whatever that makes his guilt goes away.

Stepping into his car, Bruce tugs a bottle of tequila from a draw in the car and takes a sip. And another and before long he is forgetting about the ill fated meeting and slamming his feet on the accelerator, wind on his face, caressing his hair and loud music to soothe his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bad feeling about this...


	14. Chapter 14

Ch14

The Joker's mind buzzes with the scene in the room. What the hell does Batman mean when he told him that he loves him? Mocking, of course, but the Joker can see when people are genuine(very rarely) and he looks exactly so. 

And the kiss that is still lingering on his lips tastes of wine, and probably not   
the cheap kind. This means that Batman is most likely drunk when he was there. They say that a drunk man tells no lies.

"Mr. Joker?" Harley inquires. The Joker seems so out of it every time they have a session, which is usually after Wayne's visits. Bruce fucking Wayne probably don't understand how hard it is to see a patient who she has come to care for looking so vacant and hollow, with only money and wild parties in his small, dick shaped brain.

"I'm fine." The Joker mutters. Every time he has a visit Harley always hounds him for information. Why does she care, anyways. Everyone wants something from him. She might just want to 'cure' him like the other doctors and make a name for herself. People are all simple like that.

If this is what they want from him, what does he want from himself? The Joker has no ideas, for once, so he ignores that question.

Harley spends a good section of the session trying not to end it early, but she still did in the end. The Joker is too quite, and it unnerves her.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" She attempts to get the Joker talking again. He ignores her completely. They make much more progress when Bruce Wayne is not interfering like the asshole he is.

In the end, Harley relented and sends the Joker back to his room. 

\-----------------  
"Mmmphf.." 

Bruce struggles to get up from the bed, tired eyes seeing an expanse of white.

"Am I dead..?" He murmurs at a blurry shape in front of him.

"I'm afraid not, mister Wayne." The blurry shape turns out to be Alfred's disappointed face.

Alfred breaths a sigh of relief. When he heard that Bruce has been in a drunk driving accident he almost had a heart attack, and nearly fell over in surprise when he hears that Bruce was the one doing the drunk driving, a bottle of tequila found near him in the crash site. In hindsight he should not be surprised, with Bruce drinking like a fish lately.

Obviously, the incident made it's way on all the celebrity watch and gossip magazines, and even a few 'proper' news papers.

Bruce blinks his eyes as he tries to focus on the piece of paper Alfred is now waving in his face. When the words becomes clear in his eyes Bruce groans, knowing where this is going to lead him.

"Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne injured in car crash."

"In a car crash caused by Gotham City's resident philanthropist.... Bruce Wayne..... three others were injured...drunk driving....no known deaths...a disappointment to his name...."

"I insist that you stop this nonsense right this moment, master Bruce, and get a therapist." The stoic butler is more determined than ever. If Bruce goes out drunk off his backside as Batman, who knows what will happen to him?

"And what do I tell the therapist? Everything?!" Bruce will not give up his secret. And he will definitely not tell a therapist everything that has happened in the past few weeks. He is fine with things just the way it is.

"I suggest you do, sir. If you have to know, one of Wayne enterprises' employees, Pamela Isley, happens to have a psychiatrist girlfriend-"

"No." The gut wrenching guilt returns with the mention of Harley Quinzel. If she is accusing and angry now, what would she do with full knowledge of Bruce's secret identity and what he has done?

Alfred frowns. He sees Bruce tense at the mention of Ms. Harleen Quinzel. A past girlfriend, perhaps? He could never keep count of them. It would be a good idea to get someone else, then. Alfred is determined that Bruce should not go out as Batman with a broken arm and a drinking problem. Maybe he should pay the Joker a visit himself.

\---------------

"You are Wayne's butler?" Alfred glances at the twitchy young lady glaring at him. The infamous Dr Harleen Quinzel, the Joker's psychiatrist. Looks like Bruce does have a good idea of not going to her, unless the secret is already out of the cage, with the Joker, you never know.

"I happen to be, yes." Harley stares at him. Maybe the old man would be nicer than Wayne to Mr. J, but Harley knows that you can't trust calm demeanours and nice smiles. And Pam did tell her a few days ago that the entire lot with Wayne, including her boss Mr Fox, is dodgy and hiding something.

"Excuse me, but what do you want with Patient 4379?" She hides behind a veil of professionalism. 

"Just to see why Mr Wayne is so insistent of visiting him, young lady."

Harley smiles a smile that is so fake that a child can see through it.

"Well, I do want to know that, too." Harley leaves the room, and the guards guide Alfred through the maze like Asylum to a high security meeting room. 

The look of the man surprises Alfred. The madman has lost a few pounds off his skinny frame, if that was at all possible. 

"At least it's not your brat that is here this time." Joker greets the butler. He has to say that Batman not being here makes him breath a little easier. He needs to get rid of this irrational fear of Batman quickly.

"I am just interested." The Joker raises an eyebrow. The butler seems much more willing to play this little game of words than Brucey.

"Well, Jeeves, I think you know what-uh, happene-d." Alfred nods. What Bruce did. He has to say it shocked and hurt him greatly. 

"Bruce was not in his right mind. What he did was wrong." Joker glares. 

"The why did he try to molest me when he, uh, pay these little visits?" The Joker leaps on the floor. Apparently they didn't bother to cuff him or strap him down, thinking that Wayne's butler is not as important as the man himself.

Alfred's eyes widens. Bruce seems to have left that little detail out of their talks. "What did he do?"


	15. Chapter 15

Ch15 

"Nothing much, really. Just tried to make out with me-h."  
Joker grins. It seems that Batsy's butler doesn't know the little games he plays. Humph. Like The Joker would let the little bat-brat play him like one of the pretty models that hang off his arms.

Alfred stiffens. Bruce should know better, than to taunt the man he assaulted with the threat of further violation. The Joker brought Bruce's beloved city to it's knees and killed a girl that he considers his granddaughter and the only hope for a normal life for Bruce, but he has seen the extent of the clown's injuries and him being mentally ill just makes it so much wor-

"Jeeves? Yo ho! Ya there?!" The clown prince of crime gleefully interrupts Alfred's train of thought. Alfred turns to him and nods.

"Tell Brucey to stop toying with me." The Joker's face darkens as he leans forward to Alfred, who puts on a impassive mask again. 

"Times up!" The guard outside calls an Alfred leaves with them. He would have to talk with Bruce.

\------------

"Welcome back boys and girls!" Harley leaps into the air comically. It's group therapy time again!

"Soo..." Harley observes the little group. She objected in putting so many patients from various levels together, but some doctors with 'connections' with administration decides that it is a good idea to shove their harder patients to her for group therapy. This is a disaster waiting to happen. She did not even intend for putting the original group together, having in mind a few milder patients for the Joker to interact with, and administration shoves other serial killers in a cramped room with him. At least they gave her a bigger room this time.

"Are we ready to begin?" She looks around. They stare back at her, unimpressed with the young doctor. She'll show 'em.

"As ready as ever, doc!" Rosie yells and her playmates glares at her. They should be planning how to get the Joker as far away from their Asylum as possible. His presence would influence their control. She winks at them. 'I have a plan.'

Unspoken conversations are usual amongst the group of three. They have been working together for so long that a change in body language, a glance can be used to convey volumes.

Johnny knows that Kevin has a crush on Rosie for years, the way he looks at her. The feelings could damage the group, and it would just not do. Can't work, with Rosie completely uninterested in anything sexual or romantic, flirting for the sake of it and Kevin, who falls into deep obsessions that takes years to get out of.

The Joker has other things in mind. The meeting with Bat's butler has proved...interesting, but he would rather he can't see bats, or anyone associated with him anywhere near his body. That bastard. And what Batman said? He would rather never think of the implications.

No. He must be lying. 

And What a lie it is.  
\-------  
"Bruce."

Bruce looks up from the glass of wine clutched in his hands. Alfred has locked up the alcohol cabinet, but he can't stop him from indulging and buying his own.

"Yes, Alfred?" Bruce hates how groggy and tired his voice sounds. He knows better. Having neglected long nights of patrol and exercise in favour of drinking and moping around. 

"Well, I went to see the Joker..." Alfred frowns when Bruce chokes on his drink.

"Is there something you are not telling me?"  
Bruce shakes his head. "I'm going out as Batman tonight." Alfred sits sown next to him.  
"I raised you, Bruce, and I would know when something is wrong." He shushes Bruce who tries to protest. The boy he cared for is still there, under the skin of this man who hides his problems under a sense of carelessness.

"I'm locking the doors to the basement. You need a break." Alfred glares at the glass in his hands and turns, not mentioning the Joker and what he told him.

Bruce glares at the retreating back of the man who raised him. There is an itch under his skin, that screams at Batman to go and scout the city, preferably without the (pleasant) haze of alcohol clouding his mind. There is only one other way into the cave without going through the elevator, and that is to go through the tunnel he built when anger hazed his mind and all he wants to do is to capture the Joker under false justice.

Taking another gulp of the warm liquid, Batman reaches for the hidden tunnel with the encouragement of alcohol.


	16. Finale

Ch16

The hidden track is dark, suiting his dark and disturbed mood. Bruce knows that facing what he has done would be hard, harder than facing mobsters and psychopaths. With the mobsters and psychos, he knows what he is facing- the underbelly of the monster-

It's always harder to face yourself. Especially when _you are the monste_ r. And Bruce is that monster he has been trying to face the whole time, ever since he has found the Joker stumbling along, limping and almost frightened and angry and _breaking_.

The dark goes on forever. Or at least until he reaches the small, unassuming space at the bottom of the cave. The too familiar mattress, already collecting dirt has bloodstains on it, and hastily opened shackles across clean, dead tile floor. It smears across the walls. 

It smelt like cigarettes, he thinks.

Standing there makes even more details, bright and _vivid_ come back to his mind. It's the small details, too. The sprinkle of freckles on the Joker's nose, the way his paint smears-

The feeling of soft skin and scar tissue on his fingertips and tangy taste of blood that still lingers on. Even the smell of the cigarettes and burning skin is etched into his mind-

The sound just makes it worst- small, concealed screams- Joker's descent from unassuming and incredulous, until the man finally realizes that _Bruce- is- not- joking-_

Bruce has to control his breathing to not go insane in this room, and the metal pole lying on the tile, covered in blood and dried, white-

The smell of rust and semen and metal makes the air unbreathable. Everything in his memories- he is overwhelmed by the sheer _details_ that is involved- irrelevant things, too. Like the way he sees every strand of the Joker's hair or the pattern of red or the taste of sugar and blood and gasoline on his tongue-

Warm blood dripping from his lip jerks Bruce out of his thoughts. He bites through his bottom lip. The blood form meaningless patterns on the cold floor. Fresh and accusing him of his crimes.

Unable to stay a moment longer, Bruce pushes the trapdoor and climbs into his cave. The Batcave. Here stands the very symbol of justice, and yet Bruce, the Batman himself, has became on of the corrupted.

Putting the suit on takes an effort, with his hazy mind. But when the cowl finally clicks on, Batman feel a sudden alertness break through the drug. Gotham needs him, and he will not leave Gotham to fight it's darkness alone, even if the pain from the car crash pulses underneath his skin.

\--------------

The Joker leaves the limp bodies of the guards lying around the gates of Arkham, bloodied grins carved on their necks. Any idiot can see what he has done. As for doctor Quinzel, well...He would like to kill her, _hehe_ , but the little doc is not at Arkham tonight. Lucky kid.

The killing made him feel alive- more alive than he has been since _forever._ It gives him control, you know. Everything the Batman has ripped away from him seems more irrelevant now- unconcerning, he supposes.

Well, he has to say that tonight's, uh, escape has a lot to thank from the other resident crazies, of course. But tonight! Tonight! The Joker rips off the security guard's uniform and pulls on a spare purple suit. Taking the paint and covering his face, forming the familiar war paint.

Boys and girls, the Joker is back, and he's got big plans for Gotham _Cit-y_!

 Maybe he should blow up a building or something. Fight anyone he can, and try not to see Batman again, that bastard.

He ruined him, the Joker realizes- fucking ruined him. Everything was just peachy before all this shit, you know? Buildings were being blown up and they were fighting and he has this little crush on Bats-

And the fucker ruined it all. Joker runs his thumb along the edge of his knife. 

 

\---------------

Batman clutches his injured side. The miscalculation of his actions has lead to this injury. The thug's triumphant but surprised look as he runs away in the opposite direction remains with him. All the things went through and he falls in a ditch. The knife wound in his side throbs, and the thug who attacked him escaped.

In reality, Batman is not surprised. He stumbles along the alleyway, wanting to fight the crime, to lose himself in the rush of pain and adrenaline and forget, but instead, even looking at the concrete and tiles reminds him of the Joker. His laugh is etched into the walls and bricks and steel.

Is he going to die like this? Batman wonders and he leans against a wall, listening to himself breath and feel the blood leaving his body. The last thing he sees is the Joker's face floating by his face. And he never got to apologise properly.

It is something that Bruce regrets, ultimately. In some ways, even before knowing what he has done, he supposes that he was in love. Not love, like he loved Rachel or his parents or Alfred or Gotham, but _love_. A feeling that made the sound of his heartbeat louder than the sound of the wind and turns his blood into liquid fire and his every movement into electricity-

In a way, the relationship that Batman shared with the Joker transcended love, even. Into something more. Something with no name, but so much meaning that in undescriptible.

Batman reaches out to touch his face, but blood loss takes over and he slides down.

\----------------

When the Joker finds Batman lying on the ground, he thought to leave him there. But somehow, without this man, his life becomes...meaningless. So against what he told himself, Joker crouches down and touches the wound.

When Batman reaches out for him, the Joker finds that, for once, what he feels is too complicated to explain.

You see, he wants to kill the Batman. And at this point, no one can really blame him for that. But that thought, of sticking the knife at the Bat's throat and offing him, or letting the guy just bleed out-

it felt just, plain, _wrong_. Even with what he did to him- Joker _know_ s, on a subconscious level that yeah, he loves Batman. Well, he hates the guy but there is just no denying it. Not stockholm syndrome either- it's love.

When he told Batman "you, complete, me," he meant it. Every word, every syllable. Even now, with him as a wreck and the Bat by his feet, at his complete mercy, he still means it. There are just somethings that cannot be changed, he supposes.

So he pulls the kevlar-clad vigilante and takes him, step by step, to a nearby warehouse. It was only when he pulls the kevlar plates away from Batman that Joker realises that he has been crying. His tears washed away the paint. His mask. He deconstructs himself in front of the man who deconstructed him in so many ways.

It is the first time and the last time that there is no lies between them.  The only time when it is just the two of them, there, with nothing else in the way and here he is, saying goodbye.

\-----------------

When Batman wakes, he finds himself bandaged up with a small note lying by his hand. Struggling to pull himself up, he focuses on the note.

"Goodbye."

One word and a doodle of a smiley face deconstructs Bruce's world. Everything behind his eyes went black for a while as he realises that somehow, the colour in his nights has gone out. Like a lightbulb that flashes for one last time, so bright and beautiful and then it's gone.

\-----------------

Everything changes. Batman hangs up his suit. He gives up- the suit- the Batman and his meaning- Bruce cannot take it. The soiled justice he now represents and the meaning, of everything he has lost- it is too much to take.

Every day, Alfred checks up on Bruce, holed up in his room trying to reach any news of the Joker while turning the small, crumbled note over and over in his hands and he sighs and tries to help.

Everything ends. The Joker never came back. No one knew where he went, really. It was like, the man just dropped off the face of the earth. Either way, Gotham celebrated. Everyone in Gotham, except for Bruce.

Every day, he turns the small note over in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the smiley face and the offending word. Every day. Over, and over, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter. How do you feel about this ending?


	17. A happy ending

Happy ending version:

 

When Batman woke the next morning, all he can feel is a throbbing pain by his side.

 

"You up?" Hearing the voice of the Joker, Bruce snaps up, temporarily stopped by the searing pain of stitches tearing into his flesh.

 

"Hey, you'd reopen the wound, ya know!" Joker blinks at Bruce, most of his makeup washed off by-

is that tear streaks?!

 

The Joker pokes at Bruce's face with an ungloved finger,  looking oddly sad and innocent.

 

He didn't pull back when Bruce cups his face and pulls him into a kiss. A soft kiss, but one so full of emotion.

 

Bruce is not sure if his heart would explode when Joker kisses back, lightly at first but then so _desperate_ that it breaks his heart and he clings back.

'I will **never** let go.'

 

When they finally break apart for air, Bruce opens his mouth to explain, that he is so sorry and that he loves him, so much that-

 

"Ssh...I know." Joker presses a finger to his lips, and smiles. It's the first real smile the Bruce has ever seen and it lights his world.

 

"Lets go _home_." Bruce tells the Joker but they stay where they are.

 

                                         Gotham, home.

 

And not to be clichéd, but they lived happily ever after.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the Joker stopped killing (much) people and Bats took him back and they lived happily ever after, :)


End file.
